Amaris continued mechanically chewing her meat, not entirely convinced at her own argument. She was not particularly pleased with the fae’s arrival either, but if she could stay relaxed, perhaps it would convince the others to stay calm as well. Ash did not release his grip on his bow, and Malik left his fingers on the hilt of his sword in solidarity. They eyed the large, dark bird as it swooped lower below the tree line on the same side of the river. All was quiet for several minutes as the three listened, but little could be heard over the gentle burble of the stream. When the first sounds of movement through the underbrush hit their ears, everyone was on their feet.

“Amaris?” a voice called out.

She breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced to Ash and Malik and found their hackles up. Palpable dread stretched between the men. Their eyes remained screwed onto the shaded space between the trees, disregarding how her posture had relaxed. She grazed over the tensed reevers and realized they’d need a bit more reassurance than she’d thought.

“Don’t worry,” Amaris whispered. She turned and shouted into the woods at the Raascot men, “They aren’t monsters, just the very persistent, obnoxious bird-fae who don’t know where they aren’t wanted.”

Ash whipped toward her with incredulity, body still angled for the trees.

“That is no screech of fae,” Malik agreed.

Amaris scrunched her face apologetically. She lifted and lowered one shoulder in a shrug as she said, “From what I understand, you can’t hear them for how they sound. The curse affects all facets of perception. I can’t imagine what noises you’re hearing, and I’m sorry for that, but he just called my name.”

Malik gawked, turning his head while his sword remained raised in front guard.

“That’s how your name sounds in demon? It’s good to know we’ll be able to properly address you in hell.”

Amaris ignored him and called into the forest, “I hear you. My friends won’t hurt you—probably. Just walk in slowly so you don’t spook their gentle sensibilities. And if you’re particularly annoying, I’ll be sure to tell them that you’re going to drink our blood and let them attack.”

Malik’s jaw clenched in irritation. The tendons in Ash’s forearm were taut from how tightly he held his bow, refusing to lower his weapon. They wanted to trust Amaris, but they would not do well to fully lower their guard and be caught unprepared against a true enemy. Several moments dripped with tangible anxiety as they waited, eyes trained on the dark spaces between the trees. Finally, Malik released a long, low breath as four ag’imni stepped out from the shadows of the forest.

* * *